


Times have changed

by parkkate



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Humor, Internal Conflict, Internalized Homophobia, Jealousy, M/M, Misunderstandings, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 09:40:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16365440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkkate/pseuds/parkkate
Summary: And they were roommates...





	Times have changed

**Author's Note:**

> dangerousmuffindiplomatbailiff prompted me on tumblr with [this post](https://funkyflakes.tumblr.com/post/170183023334/imagine-your-otp) :)
> 
> Sadly, I do not own Harry Potter. All characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

Harry looks sadly at the batted trunk standing in the hallway. He can’t believe it’s the last of Ron’s things. Then again, it took almost five days to pack up his room, even though there always seemed to be nothing more than his bed, a closet and a few posters on the walls. Apparently, one can stuff a lot of things under a bed, and hide a lot of things in a single closet, besides clothes. **  
**

“I really hate to leave you here.”

Harry turns around and looks at his best friend’s crestfallen face.

“We’ve had some good times here,” he continues, clapping Harry on the shoulder while his eyes wander around the flat.

“Yeah,” Harry murmurs. He doesn’t know what else to say. He’s happy for Ron and Hermione. He knew they would want to move in together someday. Still, it feels like the end of an era.

“When’s the new guy getting here?”

“Tomorrow.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t even get to see the guy. He’s going to be living in my room! I should have had a say in this.”

“I’m the one who has to live with him,” Harry points out with a grin. “Besides, I haven’t seen him yet, either, remember?”

“Yeah, about that,” Ron says, his face more serious. “Maybe I should stay until he gets here. I think it’s a little fishy he couldn’t come here in person and you guys only sent each other letters.”

“It’ll be fine, Ron,” Harry assures him. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

Ron still looks a bit unconvinced but after one last hug, he grabs his trunk and shuffles out of the flat.

“I’m still here if you need me, yeah?”

“I know,” Harry smiles. He watches Ron as he walks down the stairs; it’s almost as though he’s taking a little piece of Harry’s heart with him.

He closes the door and leans against it for a moment. It’s going to be so weird to be sleeping here alone tonight. He hasn’t been on his own in almost three years. 

Surely enough, when he gets himself a butterbeer and plops down on the sofa to watch some TV, it feels like something is missing. There’s usually a running commentary and a bunch of question, since Ron still doesn’t fully grasp the concept of Muggle television.

It’s late into the night, and Harry is almost asleep on the sofa, when the doorbell rings three times. Harry blinks at the door. Who could that be?

Reluctantly, he drags himself off the sofa and tumbles over to the door. When he opens it, however, his drowsiness evaporates as though he’s just been hit by lightning.

“M—Malfoy?” he stammers, not believing his eyes.

“Potter,” Malfoy says with a slight nod.

“What are you doing here? And what’s with all these boxes?”

“I know you were expecting me tomorrow, but I—”

“Expecting you? What? I—” No. What? No way!

“I’m your new flatmate,” Malfoy says matter-of-factly.

“That’s impossible,” Harry croaks. “My new flatmate is—”

“Malcolm, yeah. That’s me.”

Harry stares at him, not entirely convinced he isn’t dreaming.

“Honestly, I don’t know if it was bold or stupid of you to use your real name,” Malfoy drawls. “You must have gotten a million letters.”

“Well, yeah, I—” Harry shakes his head. “You can’t be serious about this. You can’t live here.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Harry starts, without knowing how to continue.

Malfoy sizes him up, his brows furrowed. “Wow, what a knock-down argument.” He rolls his eyes and breezes past Harry, his boxes floating through the air behind him. He takes a quick look around and wrinkles his nose. “It’s much smaller than you said.”

Harry scowls at him.

“I assume this is my room?” he asks, pointing to his right. Before Harry can answer, Malfoy marches into Ron’s old room, the boxes trailing after him.

Harry jumps when the door is slammed shut. Did that really just happen? What the fuck!

He paces around the living room for a few minutes, his eyes glued to Ron’s door. Well, it’s Malfoy’s door now, isn’t it? How in Merlin’s name did that happen? Why would Malfoy want to live with him anyway? They haven’t seen each other in years. Last time Harry saw him was after his trial. They talked awkwardly over coffee and it was pretty clear Malfoy didn’t want anything to do with him.

Feeling extremely wary but also exhausted, Harry scuffles into his room and slips under the covers. As expected, he doesn’t get a wink of sleep that night, tossing and turning instead, wondering what his former nemesis is doing in the other room.

When the morning sun glitters through his window and he hears birds chirping cheerfully, he finally gives up on sleep.

He clutches the sink as he waits for his coffee, feeling like death warmed up. His head is pounding and it almost feels like his limbs are detached from his body. Good thing it’s Sunday. He wouldn’t survive Auror training like this.

He sits down at the kitchen table, his hands curled around his mug. “Just breathe, Harry,” he murmurs to himself. “Maybe it was a dream after all.” His eyes automatically wander over to the living room which is empty.

After his third cup of coffee, he starts feeling edgy and restless. It’s almost eleven and Malfoy still isn’t up. What the fuck is he doing? Harry contemplates knocking on his door but… what then? On the other hand, waiting for Malfoy to finally come out of his room is driving him insane. He starts pacing in front of his door, pausing several times with his fist raised, ready to knock. He stops dead when he hears a quiet cough and… some rustling. Oh boy, Malfoy must be getting up.

Harry darts into the kitchen and tries to act nonchalant as Malfoy passes him on his way to the bathroom.

“Morning,” he grunts. Harry just nods. His scalp starts to prickle when he hears the shower running. This can’t be real. Draco sodding Malfoy is in his shower. Merlin’s beard.

Harry is still sitting in the kitchen when Malfoy exits the bathroom half an hour later, a towel wrapped around his hips and his hair still wet. Harry gulps. The only thing weirder than Malfoy being in his shower is having Malfoy half-naked in his kitchen, leaning against the sink, sipping coffee.

“Care to explain what this is all about?” Harry says, trying not to stare at Malfoy’s bare chest.

“Whatever do you mean?” Malfoy replies with a little smirk.

“What are you doing here, Malfoy?”

“I live here now,” he says with a shrug.

“But why?”

“I needed a new place.”

“And there wasn’t anything else available?”

“Yours was the most convenient.”

It’s infuriating, the way Malfoy is just standing there, acting like this isn’t a big deal.

“Don’t worry, Potter,” Malfoy drawls. “You won’t even know I’m here.” And with that, he puts the mug in the sink and waltzes back into his room. Harry stares after him, head still pounding.

The only good thing about this — Malfoy stays true to his word. If Harry didn’t see him walking into his room, he would have thought the flat is empty. Malfoy stays in his room the whole day and only comes out briefly to get something to eat. What the hell is he doing in there?

Harry is still wondering about that when he extinguishes the lights and rolls onto his back, trying to find a comfortable position. Is this what living with Malfoy will be like? Bloody hell.

Ron notices how distracted he is the next day, frowning at him when Harry misses the dummy and disarms one of his fellow trainees instead.

“What’s going on?” he hisses into his ear.

“Nothing,” Harry says hastily. “Didn’t sleep that well last night.”

Ron nods slowly, but his brows are still furrowed and it’s clear he knows something is up. Harry brushes it aside with a half-hearted grin. The whole day is absolute torture.

When he comes home that night, he pauses after shutting the door. He cocks his ears, slowly leaning to his left. There are voices coming from Malfoy’s room. Voices, as in Malfoy isn’t alone in there. Well, it’s not like he isn’t allowed to have people over.

Just as Harry starts turning away, he hears laughter. He doesn’t know why, but it irritates him. Immensely. He marches into the kitchen and yanks at the fridge. Huh. Malfoy went grocery shopping it appears. At least he’s making himself useful.

Harry decides to make himself some scrambled eggs and tries to tune out the constant laughter coming from Malfoy’s room. Pfft. So what if he’s practically ignoring Harry and having a blast with someone else? Why should Harry even care? He’s glad Malfoy is leaving him alone.

He shoves a forkful of eggs into his mouth and scowls at the wall. Fuck Malfoy. That prick better pay his rent on time or Harry will—

He stops chewing when the laughter suddenly turns into something else. He cocks his ears once more, unable to help himself. There’s… a banging noise… and… Oh Merlin!

Harry’s eyes widen as the grunts grow louder. He swallows his eggs, almost choking on them.

Is Malfoy seriously shagging a girl in there? Seriously?

The harder he listens, the more uncomfortable he gets. Honestly, with that level of noise, Malfoy might as well just screw her on the kitchen table.

Having lost his appetite, Harry vanishes the scrambled eggs and tries to decide what to do next. If he goes into the living room, the noises from Malfoy’s room will only be louder. But what the hell is he supposed to do in his own room?

No, this is Harry’s flat.

Squaring his shoulders, he stomps into the living room and grabs the remote. He flicks through the channels until… yes, perfect, a football match. He turns up the volume until the infuriating noise from Malfoy’s room is drowned out. But, unfortunately, not hearing them isn’t giving Harry the peace of mind he hoped for. He still knows Malfoy is in there... shagging some girl.

Harry’s cheeks slowly but surely heat up as his mind, unhelpfully, provides him with images of Malfoy naked, with a faceless girl sprawled beneath him. Ugh. Also, it’s been over an hour. How long can he go?

Harry has no idea how much more time has passed when he suddenly hears the door open behind him. His head whips around and he almost falls off the sofa.

What the fuck.

Malfoy wasn’t in there with a girl after all. He was in there with another bloke. What?

“Good work, Brian,” Malfoy smiles and pats the sandy-haired boy on the shoulder.

Harry chokes. Good work? Is he being serious right now?

“Thanks,” Brian says with a shy smile. “I’m looking forward to next time.”

Harry stares after him as the boy walks over to the door, completely ignoring Harry’s presence. He gives Malfoy another smile and vanishes out the door.

Harry stays frozen, his eyes fixed on the door, mind completely boggled.

“Good match?” Malfoy suddenly asks, sitting down beside him. Harry instinctively flinches away from him.

“What was that?” he asks, his voice much higher than usual.

“What was what?”

“That!” Harry exclaims, pointing at the door.

“What, Brian?” Malfoy sounds so nonchalant, it makes Harry grit his teeth. “We were just… working on something.”

“Yeah, I could hear that,” Harry snaps. “Is he going to be here often?”

“Once a week,” Malfoy replies, leaning back and turning his attention to the telly.

“Once a week?” Harry echoes. “What, you’re scheduling your shags?”

Malfoy’s eyes snap to his with a questioning look. “My shags?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Harry says with a scowl. “I know exactly what you were doing in there.”

“Is that so?” Malfoy retorts with an amused smile. “You seem pretty worked up about it.”

“I’m not,” Harry says defensively. “I just had no idea you’re a cocksucker, that’s all.”

“A cocksucker?” Malfoy echoes, raising an eyebrow.

“Look, I don’t care about your love life, just… keep it down, will you?” Feeling too hot and too irritated to look at Malfoy any longer, Harry jumps off the sofa and marches into his room. He flops onto his bed, blinking at the ceiling.

Malfoy is gay. Draco Malfoy is gay. Something about that revelation makes Harry’s throat close up. Has he always been gay? Was he gay when they were at Hogwarts? Was he shagging guys then, too?

The unwanted image of Malfoy, snogging his very handsome friend… what was his name? Ah, Zabini. The image of Malfoy snogging Zabini burns itself into Harry’s mind. He shakes his head and screws up his eyes but all he sees is Malfoy, cupping Zabini’s cheeks and devouring him. Fuck.

Harry turns on his front and presses his face into the pillow. It’s going to be another long night…

* * *

As if the news of Malfoy being gay wasn’t enough, the next few days turn out to be one hell of a rolllercoaster. Because, apparently, there isn’t only Brian. There’s also Jack. And Noah. And Henry. And Alfie. And Merlin knows how many more. Every day there’s another bloke in Malfoy’s room. Except on the weekend. Apparently, even Draco Malfoy needs a little breather. That’s why Harry finds him in the kitchen on Sunday, nibbling on some toast.

“No visitors today, huh?” Harry mutters as he pours himself some coffee.

“If it’s bugging you that much, I’ll just—”

“Whatever,” Harry interrupts him and sits down opposite of him. He gives Malfoy a speculative glance and takes a sip of coffee. “So… what, are you like… a street worker?”

“I beg your pardon?” Malfoy looks like Harry just slapped him across the face.

“Well, I mean, there are all these boys and… you know. I mean… Are you?”

Malfoy says nothing and just stares at him.

“I mean if you are, that’s… whatever. Although I would prefer you didn’t turn my flat into a brothel.”

“You’re actually serious,” Malfoy says, putting down his toast.

“It’s just… I didn’t know you were… one of  _those_ people and—”

“What do you mean, one of  _those_ people?” Malfoy says, his voice dangerously low.

Harry swallows, his pulse quickening. “Um… you know… I didn’t know you were… into blokes.”

“And that’s a problem?” Malfoy asks, coldly.

“Um—I—Err…”

“Understood, Potter,” Malfoy spits. He gets up and stomps into his room, slamming the door shut behind him with a loud bang.

Harry scowls at his coffee, wondering why this whole thing is bothering him so much. So what if Malfoy is gay? Well, he can’t deny it’s making him uncomfortable. But maybe he should just get his act together. There’s nothing wrong with being gay.

Alright, next time he sees Malfoy, he’ll try to make it up to him.

A whole week passes before Harry gets the chance to apologise. There’s still a parade of boys coming out of Malfoy’s room every day, even the occasional girl which confuses Harry immensely. But Sunday night, he decides to cook his specialty, shepherd’s pie. He sets the table for two and quickly scribbles down an apology on a piece of parchment and shoves it under Malfoy’s door. 

And then he waits.

It takes Malfoy twenty minutes to saunter into the kitchen. He sits down silently, avoiding Harry’s eyes.

“I really am sorry,” Harry says. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

Malfoy peeks at him from under his lashes. He makes a grunting noise and gives Harry a curt nod.

They eat in silence for a while until Harry can’t take it anymore. He meant his apology and he wants to clear the air between them. He doesn’t want to go on like this. It’s like living with a ghost. Who has lots and lots of sex.

“So… how long have you been doing… what you’re doing?” he asks carefully.

“A few months,” Malfoy replies.

“Isn’t it… weird?” Harry asks before he can stop himself.

Malfoy puts down his fork, props up his elbow on the table and leans his forehead against the back of his hand. “Potter, you’re such a knobhead.”

“What, I was just wondering—”

“I’m not a prostitute, you prat.”

Harry blinks at him.

Malfoy lifts his head and looks him dead in the eye. “I’m a tutor.”

Harry hesitates. “If that’s just a fancy word for—”

“An actual tutor, you idiot. I teach Muggle-borns and sometimes squibs.”

“You—What?”

“Don’t look so surprised,” Malfoy grumbles.

“But I am. I thought—”

“I know what you thought.”

Harry bites his lip, feeling like a complete idiot. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

“I know.”

“So… what exactly are you teaching them?”

“Basic spellwork. Some of them didn’t go to Hogwarts, so there’s a lot of catching up to do.”

“Huh. Isn’t your room kinda small for that?”

“I expanded it.”

“You did what?”

“Relax, the Muggles won’t notice.”

Malfoy just keeps on surprising him.

“This isn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” Malfoy says, gesturing to the shepherd’s pie.

“Thanks,” Harry says, rolling his eyes. But he can’t keep the corner of his mouth from curling upwards. It’s ridiculous, but he somehow feels so much lighter now that he knows Malfoy isn’t shagging half of Britain day after day. “Honestly, you’re the last person I expected to tutor Muggle-borns,” he says after a while.

“Times have changed,” Malfoy shrugs, as though this isn’t a big deal. Wow, he really is different, isn’t he?

After dinner, Malfoy even offers to do the dishes to which Harry narrows his eyes.

“Now you’re overdoing it.”

Malfoy just laughs and shoos Harry away. Shaking his head, he sits down on the sofa with a smile, turning on the telly. He’s surprised when Malfoy sits down next to him instead of going straight into his room.

Harry suddenly finds himself unable to concentrate on the movie. He’s hyper aware of Malfoy breathing next to him, shifting his legs so they’re almost touching Harry’s. At one point, Malfoy gets up to go to the bathroom and accidentally brushes his fingers against Harry’s. They tingle, even minutes after, leaving Harry confused and flustered.

It’s hard, keeping a straight face throughout the evening. His eyes keep darting to Malfoy’s hands, Malfoy’s legs. Harry unconsciously flinches away from him more and more until there’s no more room on the sofa.

As relieved as he is that he and Malfoy are kind of getting along now, this keeps happening. They sit down on the sofa every night and when they finally go to bed, Harry has no idea what they’ve been watching. His hopes that he isn’t being too obvious are shattered when Malfoy eyes him one night and raises an eyebrow.

“You’re acting like I’ve got a contagious disease,” he drawls.

“What? Oh, err— No, no, I don’t—Err…”

“Whatever, Potter,” Malfoy snorts, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I’m automatically attracted to every male person in the room.”

“Oh… right,” Harry says, feeling sheepish. He tries to relax a bit, but fails when Malfoy shifts again. He turns his attention to the telly but his mind is still on Malfoy. So he’s not attracted to Harry. That’s good. It’s a relief, really. And yet… “Why aren’t you attracted to me?” Harry blurts.

Malfoy’s head whips around to him. His lips are parted and there’s a strange gleam in his eyes. Their gazes lock and neither of them says anything for a few seconds. Harry’s breath catches in his throat, his pulse hammering against his collarbone.

“Do you want me to be attracted to you?” Malfoy asks quietly. He slowly lets his head fall to the back of the sofa without taking his eyes off Harry.

“What? Um, no. Of course not,” Harry stammers. “Not that I have anything against… um, gay people. They’re cool. You’re cool. I mean—I’m cool with it.”

Malfoy slowly nods, a tiny smirk forming on his lips. “Right. Glad we cleared that up.” He turns back to the telly, completely ignorant of the thunderstorm that’s raging inside of Harry. Holy fuck. What is going on?

He didn’t lie. He really doesn’t have anything against gay people. And yet, the thought of Malfoy getting it on with some random bloke makes Harry want to spew. Merlin, that’s… homophobic, isn’t it? He’s being homophobic.

It’s all he can think about the next day, and the day after that, and the— Well, you get the idea. There has to be a way he can show Malfoy he’s not a homophobic prick.

If only he’d known that plan would backfire quicker than Malfoy makes him flinch.

It’s Saturday and not only did Harry spend three hours in the kitchen trying out a new lamb cutlet recipe, he also made muffins. He’s not sure if blueberry muffins really say ‘Hey, I love gay people, I’m not homophobic’, but it’s the best he could come up with.

Unfortunately, Malfoy is still out. He said something about going to the pub.

Harry tries to busy himself with studying for the upcoming Auror exam. Written tests were never his strong suit. But he can always make it up with—

His heart skips a beat and the nape of his neck starts to prickle when he hears someone at the front door. His lips inadvertently curl into a smile and he jumps out of his seat. He darts into the living room, ready to drag Malfoy into the kitchen. But when he sees Malfoy isn’t alone, his stomach drops and his entire body freezes up.

He can feel his gag reflex kicking in as he watches the dark-haired bloke grab Malfoy’s hips before he crushes their lips together. He wants to look away, he really doesn’t want to see this, but finds himself unable to move. But the longer he stares at them, the more furious he gets. This is absolutely disgusting. He tries to hold the anger in; he should just go back to his room and leave them to it. But he can’t. He just… can’t.

“Oi, Malfoy,” he snaps, balling his hands into fists.

Malfoy detaches himself from the bloke and gives Harry a questioning look. “Yes?”

Harry scowls at him, ready to march over and punch him in the face.

“Merlin’s beard,” the dark-haired bloke exclaims. “You’re Harry Potter.”

Harry rolls his eyes and ignores him.

“You’re living with Harry Potter?” the bloke splutters, turning back to Malfoy. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Malfoy lets go of him and takes a step back. “Why didn’t I tell you?”

“Yeah, this is…” He breaks off and looks at Harry with an awestruck expression.

“Let’s just go to my room,” Malfoy says, grabbing the bloke’s hand.

“What? No way!”

“What?”

“I can’t do this with Harry Potter in the next room!”

“Well, too bad,” Harry says, putting his hands on his hips. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me right now,” Malfoy growls, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Harry Potter,” the bloke breathes and shoots Harry another awestruck look.

“Merlin, that’s it,” Malfoy snaps. “You, out!” He shoves the bloke towards the door.

“What? What did I do?”

“Being a complete bastard.” He slams the door in his face and kicks it.

“You’ve got some nerve, bringing a guy here and—”

“This is my flat, too,” Malfoy growls, turning around. “But, believe me, I wouldn’t have if I’d known you’d cockblock me.”

Harry snorts. “So sorry you won’t be getting off tonight.”

“What the hell is your problem?” Malfoy yells. He swiftly crosses the room until he’s right in front of Harry.

“You can’t just bring random guys here, it’s—it’s—”

“What?”

“It’s disgusting.”

Malfoy glares at him and suddenly grabs him by the collar. Malfoy is still a little taller than him and with this proximity, Harry has to let his head fall back to look at him.

“Disgusting, huh?”

Harry gulps. He can feel Malfoy’s breath on his face and he can see every single one of his pale eyelashes.

“You know, I’m beginning to wonder why you’re so bothered by this,” Malfoy drawls.

Harry shudders when a puff of hot air grazes his lips. “I—I—”

“You’re not… jealous, are you?”

Harry’s eyes widen in horror. “What? Of course not!”

Malfoy holds his gaze and tightens his grip on his collar. “Why are you freaking out like this, then?”

“I—” Harry gulps once more. “I—I’m not—” His eyes flicker down when Malfoy licks his lips. His heart leaps into his throat and suddenly, it’s so hard to breathe. His ears sting, his fingertips are prickling and it feels like his chest is going to burst any second now.

“What is it?” Malfoy whispers, his eyes boring into Harry’s. “What is it that’s bothering you so much?”

“I—I—” Harry feels a twitch in his left eye and tries to ignore it. “I don’t like seeing you with… guys.”

“Guys in general?”

“Um…” Harry’s gaze flickers down once more, drawn-in by the curve of Malfoy’s mouth. His own lips are parted, his breath coming in short gasps. Without knowing what he’s doing, he slightly leans forward until his lips are almost touching Malfoy’s. Almost.

“What—What was the question?” he whispers.

“I—I don’t know,” Malfoy whispers back. He moves his head the tiniest fraction and his lips brush against Harry’s ever so slightly.

Something that almost sounds like a moan escapes Harry’s throat. He’s feeling so dizzy, he’d probably collapse if Malfoy wasn’t holding him in place; actually, he’s pulling Harry closer to him.

Harry inhales sharply, causing their lips to brush against each other once more. Malfoy’s lips are so soft and all Harry wants to do is taste them, run his tongue over them and—

Holy fucking shit.

“Get away from me,” he yells and shoves Malfoy away. He blinks at Harry, completely baffled.

What the fuck just happened? What was that? Why did he— Why did he feel like he wanted to kiss Malfoy? He never—

Oh… shit. Shit!

“Shit,” Harry exclaims. “Fuck!”

“What the hell is going on with you?” Malfoy asks. He sounds angry.

“Fuck. Fuck!” Harry slaps his own thigh and looks around the room. This is… crazy.

His eyes lock with Malfoy’s and his heart immediately skips a beat.

“I didn’t know,” he croaks. “I really didn’t—”

“Didn’t know what?” Malfoy looks confused when Harry strides over to him and throws his arms around his neck.

“I don’t think it’s guys in general,” he breathes before he pulls Malfoy down to him and finally,  _finally_ , gets a real taste of him. Malfoy still seems confused, and surprised, but when Harry slips his tongue into his mouth, he groans and wraps his arms around him, pulling him even closer.

Harry sighs in relief and relishes the feeling of Malfoy’s tongue pushing against his. He lets one of his hands slip into Malfoy’s hair and shudders when he feels Malfoy doing the same.

“You’re a piece of work, you know that?” Malfoy pants.

“At least now we know I’m not a homophobic prick.” Harry feels him shudder as he gently sucks on his bottom lip. “Oh, by the way, I made muffins for you.”

Malfoy snorts. “Trying to get on my good side, are you?”

“Is it working?”

Malfoy cups both of his cheeks. “Maybe. But you know what’s even better than that?” Harry feels him smile. “Finding out that, all this time, you just wanted to get into my pants.”

“Shut up,” Harry grumbles, feeling embarrassed.

“Hey, if it helps, I’d kinda like you to get into my pants,” Malfoy says, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I though you weren’t attracted to me,” Harry snorts and closes his eyes as Malfoy pulls him into another kiss. “I guess it could be arranged sometime.”

“Sometime?” Malfoy asks, teasingly. Harry makes a face and quickly kisses him again, trying to hide his embarrassment.

“Alright, muffins first, then we can move things to the bedroom.” Malfoy gives him a wink.

“Is that always the order you work with?”

Malfoy grins at him and pats one of his cheeks. “Only with homophobic pricks.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :)
> 
> Say Hi on [tumblr](https://parkkate.tumblr.com/) :)


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